Every Song Reminds Me of You
by ChrisCalledMeSweetie
Summary: Music hath charms to help John acknowledge his feelings for Sherlock.


**Every Song Reminds Me of You**

 **...**

It starts in the shower. There's something about the acoustics in the bathroom, combined with the rush of water, that has always enticed John to sing. Any song will do — from childhood favourites to whatever he's most recently heard on the radio. Whether John remembers the lyrics or not doesn't matter; he's quite capable of making up his own.

So, that's how it starts. The water cascades down over John's body as he belts out his personal version of Amy Winehouse's _Valerie:_

 _Since I've come on home  
Well, my body's been a mess  
And I've missed your curly hair  
And the way you like to dress_

 _Won't you come on over_  
 _Stop treating me like I'm your toy_  
 _Why don't you come on over my Posh Boy?_  
 _My Posh Boy, my Posh Boy, my Posh Boy…_

 _Huh… Where did that come from? John wonders idly as he towels off. Posh Boy…_

…

The next morning, John has The Beach Boys stuck in his head, but the lyrics that spill out of his mouth in the shower become:

 _Well, Posh Boy, you look so fine  
And I know it wouldn't take much time  
For you to help me, Posh Boy  
Help me get her out of my heart_

 _Help me, Posh Boy_  
 _Help, help me, Posh Boy_  
 _Help me, Posh Boy_  
 _Help, help me, Posh Boy_

John laughs to himself as he borrows Sherlock's overpriced shampoo, and keeps on singing.

 _Help me, Posh Boy  
Help, help me, Posh Boy  
Help me, Posh Boy  
Help, help me, Posh Boy_

 _Help me, Posh Boy_  
 _Help, help me, Posh Boy_  
 _Help me, Posh Boy, yeah_  
 _Get her out of my heart_

…

Soon, John finds that he can't hear a single song without unconsciously changing the lyrics to include his new secret nickname for Sherlock. Singing in the shower is one thing, but now these songs have started taking over his life.

John hates Justin Bieber, but this damn song was playing on the radio in the cab and he just can't get it out of his head:

 _'Cause if you like the way you look that much  
Oh, Posh Boy, you should go and love yourself  
And if you think that I'm still holdin' on  
Well, Posh Boy, you should go and love yourself_

At first, John is glad when he hears an equally catchy tune, thinking it will save him from the horrors of Justin Bieber. Unfortunately, Train has turned the melody of _Heart and Soul_ into an ear-worm that he just can't shake.

 _Posh Boy song  
The one that makes me go all night long  
The one that makes me think of you  
That's all you gotta do_

 _Hey, Posh Boy song_  
 _The one the makes me stay out till dawn_  
 _The one that makes me go oooh_  
 _That's all you gotta do_

 _…_

As if that wasn't bad enough, John rapidly discovers that everyday events are now becoming song cues. Laying the fire on a chilly night leads to an internal:

 _You know that it would be untrue_ _  
_ _You know that I would be a liar_ _  
_ _If I was to say to you_ _  
_ _Boy, we couldn't get much higher_ _  
_ _Come on, Posh Boy, light my fire_ _  
_ _Come on, Posh Boy, light my fire_ _  
_ _Try to set the night on fire_

And each time Sherlock does something inconsiderate or foolhardy, John silently channels Hall & Oates:

 _You're a Posh Boy, and you've gone too far  
'Cause you know it don't matter anyway_

John snickers to himself at the thought of what Sherlock would say if he could hear the soundtrack in John's mind.

 _…_

It's only in the shower that John allows himself to sing out loud. That's where he's always felt free to let go of all of his inhibitions. Lately, though, the songs that come to him seem to be filled with a meaning he might not be ready to face.

 _When you were a young boy  
Did you have a puppy  
That always followed you around?  
Well, I'm gonna be as faithful as that puppy  
No, I'll never let you down_

 _'Cause it grows stronger, like a river flows_  
 _And it gets bigger, Posh Boy, heaven knows_  
 _And it gets sweeter, Posh Boy, as it grows_

 _And do I love you, my oh my?_  
 _Yeah, river deep, mountain high_  
 _If I lost you would I cry_  
 _Oh, how I love you, Posh Boy_  
 _Posh Boy, Posh Boy, Posh Boy_

That one he shrugs off by telling himself that it was triggered by Donovan comparing him to a puppy following Sherlock around. The next one he figures is just an expression of his lifelong admiration of Paul McCartney:

 _And when I go away  
I know my heart can stay with Posh Boy  
It's understood  
It's in the hands of Posh Boy  
And Posh Boy does it good  
Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa  
Posh Boy does it good_

 _And when the cupboard's bare_  
 _I'll still find something there with Posh Boy_  
 _It's understood_  
 _It's everywhere with Posh Boy_  
 _And Posh Boy does it good_  
 _Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa_  
 _Posh Boy does it good_

 _Whoa-whoa, I love, oh-whoa, Posh Boy_  
 _Only Posh Boy holds the other key to me_  
 _Oh-whoa, Posh Boy, oh-oh, Posh Boy_  
 _Only Posh Boy does it good to me_  
 _Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa_  
 _Posh Boy does it good_

John is just a huge fan of Paul McCartney. That's all.

…

Each morning, behind the muffling safety of the water, John runs through one song after another. As time goes by, he washes away his denial. John is in love with a Posh Boy.

John is in love with Sherlock.

…

It's bound to happen eventually, and one day it does: John starts singing as he makes tea.

 _Posh Boy says  
Only fools rush in  
But I can't help  
Falling in love with him_

There's a gasp from behind him, and John whirls around to see Sherlock sitting at the table. In a blind panic, John dashes from the kitchen, races up the stairs, and shuts himself in his room. The only song running through his mind now is _shite, shite, shite, shite, shite, shite, shite…_

 _Idiot!_ John berates himself. _Why did you run off like that? You could have bluffed your way through this like it meant nothing, but no, you had to go and turn it into a Huge Fucking Deal. Fuckity fucking fuck!_

John hears Sherlock's footsteps on the stairs and frantically casts around for an excuse for his behaviour. _Hmm…_ _He thought he heard someone breaking into his room. Yeah. That's why he ran up here._ John grabs his gun and aims it at the window, freezing in a pose that will show Sherlock that he's managed to scare off the intruder.

Sherlock doesn't enter the room, though. Instead, he pauses outside the door and begins to sing. It takes a minute for John's fevered brain to register what he's hearing.

 _Doctor, doctor, give me the news  
I've got a bad case of lovin' you…_

 _..._

 **End Notes:** Your reviews make me smile. :)


End file.
